


A Pretty Girl and a Decent Meal

by AmerValk



Series: Dragon Age 2 f!Hawke/Anders One Shots [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 13:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmerValk/pseuds/AmerValk
Summary: In this headcanon for my mage diplomatic Hawke, Meera:Anders is ghost writer of the Mage Rebellion. He works from the shadows to help the Libertarians as they prepare to abolish the  Circle of Magi. Still, there are issues he must resolve with Meera on the eve of declaration.This is mostly fluff, with a bit of angst flown in and minor smut for good measure.





	A Pretty Girl and a Decent Meal

The Mage Rebellion finally roared into existence. In the past three years, it fomented: from when Anders lit the spark in the Kirkwall Rebellion, to the eve of Grand Enchanter Fiona’s Declaration of Independence. As Justice had assured him, those years ago, peace would fail. There was no other way. These thoughts echoed in Anders mind as he worked tirelessly, drafting letters and maintaining precise and coded correspondences. The taper burned low in his room. It flickered intermittently as a draft blustered through the crack in the window. It was not the best accommodations, but for this rebellion to succeed, he needed to be invisible. Fortunately, there was no shortage of Libertarian supporters who offered shelter, food, and occasionally coin for the two freedom fighters who brought down the Kirkwall Circle. Anders’ sighed, his body heaving with exhaustion as he wrote the final declaration: his own death warrant. He could sense Justice’s approval as he scawled the words,

_We condemn those practitioners of magic who, through illness of mind or understandable but misguided anger at those who oppressed them, would use their Maker-given powers to threaten innocent lives, and we pledge to aid any legitimate and impartial government in bringing these lawless apostates to justice._

He laughed bitterly, as he condemned himself to the same fate as one of these ‘lawless’ apostates. Anders knew once the Mage Rebellion became sanctioned and as they prepared for Templar retaliation they would have no room for his ilk. _**'You knew this day would come, Anders'.**_ Justice intoned, _ **'You must accept your fate now that your work has completed and the mages are going to be free. What do you plan to do next?'**_ He asked, worried for his friend. Justice felt the answer. Anders would run and hide, as he had always done before.

“As long as I live,” Anders stated, aware of the tremor in his voice, “I am symbol for those who would be free of oppression. Until the mages are truly free, I will be a ghost. A legend.” He did not hear Meera as she approached him. Her steps were soft as any spring rain. He smelled the delicate scent of her skin, like flowers on a warm summer day and sighed. The tension in his head melted away. As much as it could on the cusp of this new declaration. The circles would be abolished and he would be on the run again.

Deftly, he shifted in his seat and drew her into his lap. There was a grace in the way his hands grasped hers. Long and elegant fingers pulling her onto his lap as he captured her lips in a grateful kiss. Her mouth was soft and yielding as he tangled his fingers in her hair, almost carried away by her surrender. Meera’s breath came in staccato as she recovered from his embrace and her eyes fluttered open. He became lost in her dark, bright eyes and he stared absently. “What was that for?” she asked, breathless in his arms. 

Anders brushed aside her bangs and tucked a piece of hair behind Meera’s ear before he answered, “I wanted to.” His voice lacked the bravado of his words, but her cheeks still glowed with a bright red hue as he tried to pull her in for yet another kiss. He was prepared to shower her with affection as he carried her to the bed they shared. When they went on the run, again, they would not have the luxury of making love on a bed and Anders fully intended to enjoy Meera’s wanton surrender. However her lips stilled against his and he drew back, concerned. He cupped her cheek, leaning his forehead against her own, “Are you alright, love?” Anders inquired.

Meera tried to hide her grief, but her curt nod was a screen for a much deeper emotion. Anders observed tears resting at the corner of her eyes and brushed them aside. His gaze met hers as he demand to know what brought her such sadness with his mere glance, “I know how much the Mage Rebellion means to you but I can’t be part of this fight anymore.” Anders read her troubled expression and saw the scars that were a brutal reminder of the price they both paid for the cause. Memories unbidden rushed through his mind and Anders knew that her words were not accusations. They were statements of fact and each letter was thought out. Still, her voice trembled with finality, “This was always your war, but I cannot bear to fight in it.” His expression dropped at her confession. Meera leaned against him and found solace in the warmth of Anders’ skin beneath her cheek. 

He sighed, suddenly voiceless at her admission. Turmoil wracked his brain but he made every effort to hide it. Anders could not lose her. Meera was his pulse, his beating heart and without her, none of this mattered. “Not anymore,” he stated. He pointed to the recently scrawled paragraph while the ink still dried. 

She scanned the words morosely, “That can’t be easy to write, Anders. You’re not a criminal, you’re a hero,” Meera urged, her voice soft. “This means...” she paused, considering the implications.

In the seconds that followed Anders touched her cheek gently, caressing the skin he knew so well. “That we need to leave and go into hiding again.” Meera raised a brow and nodded. This was the only way. A silent moment simmered between them, until she sighed, relieved. 

Anders watched a smile grace Meera’s features, relieved that his explanation was not questioned further. The Mage Rebellion was changing, but he could not allow the apostates to be condemned. He would damn himself, but many apostates unwittingly became part of the war. Someone needed to be the fugitive, for the rest of the mages who refused to bend to the Chantry before the legitimacy of the Mage Rebellion. The bloodshed was not ending, but taking a new form as a battlefield lay before him. All free mages were now targets and the Templars would retaliate without mercy.

Meera watched him cautiously as the thoughts turned in his head. Anders had never been direct. She often needed to read between his honeyed words to understand what he was truly saying. “ I have always been second to the cause, but, do you mean this?” She doubted him as she observed the anxiousness behind his warm, disarming expression. She dropped her voice, disappointed as she realized that nothing had truly changed. “There are so many innocent affected by this war. They need your compassion, Anders. You were once a healer.” She stated simply, her mournful, dulcet tones struck at his very soul. She looked at him exactingly, fully aware of the impact her statement made.

A tightness swelled in his chest and expanded as if he would suffocate. Her words were soft, like the sheen of her skin in the sunlight. However, they sunk into his soul like talons. “Sweetheart,” he cooed. Her words reached a pain that surged in his own heart. Justice, the Mage Rebellion had changed him. He was a healer, but that time was so long past he had forgotten how the surge of the spirits felt unaltered.“You know wherever you go, I must follow. I can’t promise you I won’t fight for what I must along the way. I can promise that I will not bring you into harm’s way. I will keep you away from bloodshed. I love you.” Anders finished, hoping to appease Meera and assure her weary heart, “You have always come first in my heart.” At least that much was true. He could not lose her now.

Anders demanded her attention. After all this time, she was the cause, even if she would never understand how much she meant to him. His lips were gentle and firm, hoping she would drop the subject entirely. He tilted her chin as her lips parted for him. The way they made love was a dance as he lifted her from the chair. Instinctively, her legs wound around his waist. She responded to the kisses with a primitive hunger as her tongue tasted the inside of his mouth and demanded more.

This wasn’t about being the man she wanted him to be, Meera loved Anders for all his flaws. Her body sunk into the mattress and his body followed by memory. She sought his lips again, in a desperate attempt to have him, and to forget what made her feel so afraid. Cruelly, Anders withdrew and smirked as Meera’s lay beneath him with her lips parted so perfectly. She was a vision of beauty, enchanting him entirely.

She gasped as his warmth left her and he traced the scars on her face. It was difficult for him to suppress the rage as he saw the shadows formed by the deep wounds. Every Templar would pay for this transgression, maring her face was a crime he would never forgive. Still, there was a time and a place for such anger, and it was not as she looked up at him from the mattress. Her eyes were dark pools that drew him in and her entire body pulsed as he felt her mana reach out to him. She was a force stronger than gravity and the fade itself.

Anders could not resist her. He nearly fell into the bed and into her arms. He was quick to kiss her once more, as she confessed between harried breaths, “I love you. Always. I could never leave you.” He traced the curves of her body with pulses of magic, arcing warmth surged through her nerves. Unconsciously, he rewarded her confession. His erection twitched against her inner-thigh as she moaned into his mouth.

She almost felt ridiculous as her resistance melted away. How could she have considered leaving? Meera’s mind went blank as he began to undress her, peeling away the layers until she bore her soul to him. His cotton shirt was so soft it nearly slipped through his fingers as he removed it from her torso. Anders hands lingered on her curves indulgently as he held her near. He recalled a faint memory, _‘All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools.’_ That Anders sounded ridiculous, so desperate to feel normal and content, but then Justice changed everything. _And the Templar blades_ , he shivered as she traced the scar on his chest, where his heart was pierced.

Meera pulled her hand away, concerned as he trembled. It was easy to forget much he hated it being touched. Anders looked suddenly distant. She panicked, begging, “Please come back to me.” Her eyes were so earnest as Anders focused on Meera once more. He allowed himself to forget, just for this moment. All he wanted at this moment was a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to love her.


End file.
